Lord, Lord…
I can understand, beyond empathy, with your children who want to believe in something they can
Touch
Hear
Observe
Mark.
I hear their stories. I read their books. I listen, quietly. And I get it. The mystery can be too much and, in some cases, not comforting. The rational explanation does not necessarily console, but it is not irrational.
What I need your help with more… now and now and now… is your children who say they believe, who profess a deep understanding of your wonders and greatness… and yet their actions are
Cruel.
Uncompassionate.
Excluding.
Where is the space in this? What is the word I am trying to balance from you in this?
How in the midst of the deaths of so many and the murderous words and actions of others,
How am I supposed to utter thanksgivings with any sense of real gratitude?
How am I supposed to ring out with integrity in Advent hope and Christmas joy?
How should I welcome Christ when he is limping toward me, shot… bruised… commodified… vilified… marginalized…? How do I welcome him and still proclaim your reign?
There’s no close to this prayer, Lord, because we are living it.
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